6/23/99

No Bleeding Hearts

Dear Tom, Dear Armand, Dear Joe;
Sorry no bleeding hearts today
Out of season...too late, too soon, too sorry
Doom doom ..What a horrid nightmare
I had this morning, sweet pea, sweet petunia bland
Dear Max you yell, fasting on tea, drinking tree branches;
And effervescent Juan, where is my daddy?
Easily crying now for thirty-six years.
Quiet, loud, annoyed, giving, not lying, not dying.
The killer stopped one day to rest
The bleeder sometimes smiles
Junk in piles...books, trash, letters.
The sun burns down so dryly
Nothing can cause infinity to stop
We will always hope.

Don’t Cry

Don’t cry little farmer, when the corn goes dry
It doesn’t matter
All our blue sky days can’t give up
Just for one thing that grows brown
That turns gold...that goes brittle
Like my insides.
Like the edge of the stream
That beckons us a little closer to get wet feet ,
To let the tiny white bubbles
Careen off our toes , dizzily.

Don’t cry little farmer, for the one
Poor deceased fawn, you found on your lawn
The dogs didn’t really kill it
It’s little spotted brown and white back
It’s not really you, you don’t have to cry.
Nothing matters in the end.
Not too many people know that.

99/ e.

Untitled Poem 6/18/99

I
Nerves of bumblebee, dance and twitter.
The heart so huge has turned
Into a dried split pea.
The green leaves sway in a mild light wind;
Their undulation pretends that all is well.

Hovering over me, all the memories
And sounds...the fake sounds...the awful.

Blue eyes wet today hearing... .
...An all right, all right now.
Soothing beauty.
Strange animals roam,
The living among the dead
They die, the live, they run, they dream

II
From the food to green fields;
The vanishing things sometimes reappear.
Dread the peace and black that bids so unquiet.
All chaotic, the echoes of not my story.
Turns they take, to plague and tease
The terror, the sadness of invisible words.

III
Sipping nectar from a green bottle
All the tears wonder who could be there
When the lights go out?

Is there a horned red man with fangs and drool?
Who in the flames has his rule?
Pity dragon’s breathing fire, the sweet ache
Long suffering is a virtue.
Plans are for building...what do they build?

In a silent moment, in a dark shade
In a rain with drizzle, cool
Who will win; who will rule?
Well. I‘m not concerned
As the sand pours.
I try...I do try...to lock my doors
Now.

IV
Forgiving is so easy but too difficult too.
All those beasts that scream... .

Through the daylight through the night time
Things so pale and dark...
...Seeking to score something
I do not understand.
They are they... . I am me.

e/ 99

My passion is a cold wind,
A flame, an ice cube,
A box of rose petals,
Nettles and barbs
Caresses and scars,
A throbbing head, remembered dead,
Tears, on the carpet.
My love is a smoke signal
A silent scream choked in dreams
Sometimes the pain becomes ecstasy.
All of me focused in that welling,
Dwelling inward, torso cyclone.
Hearts reaching...the hallucination jells.
I am not alone,
I reach the soul of my desired spirits meet
Mingling, sharing, hurts so sweet
Softly talking in the nighttime air
The sweet, painful, misunderstanding.
The meaning of the pain,
Its essence, its beauty
The lonely togetherness,
Of desperate searching.


Ecstasy
Ecstasy: where have you hid
Oh you devil, wild fun beast
In my breast, in the heat
Where are you?
You trollop, you hussy, you whore
You left me alone
And life is a bore

Ecstasy
Will you be here with spring flowers?
I think I got a hint of you
Day before last
The air was so warm
Excitement was cast
And I flew off
On a wild adventure
And met you at dinner
You took your leisure

You were a girl
And a shrimp, and a noodle
God and a road block
Kit and caboodle

But what of the danger
Of prison escape
It all fizzled out
And I went me to bed.

Eva Rogers ©march 1997

Hand
All rise, with a genies wish
It hails... ... . .
Hails and rains and snows and blows
Victimless crimes, they said. "Who knows? "
The all news radio station
The all news television
A gold hand, sets on the shelf
And the sweetly round, dangling blue
Spheres, just lie there all night long.

In Loving Memory of Judy Gustovsen
To Judy after passing - March of the Romans

Scores of Romans, dancing by -
Are they Romans perhaps they march.
They march like time, and so will die
All is ended in eventuality
To the eye.
The peace, the shuffle, the pain, the light.
We wake and sleep each day and night
But of the last day when we will not wake again.
In this life, this body, uncertain.
Do we go to leap upon another stage?
A babe to start anew, freedom from our age.
In heaven pearly gates
The clouds above the heads of states
Above the sin and anger dread?
Shall we really burn in hell?
For imperfections and heads that swell?

I think I do not want to die.
It’s so hard to say good-bye.
Life though short and with its pain.
Shows us Love and Beauty each day, again.
The irritations balance out.
To miss it all, to choose, I doubt.
Oh, I’m so sorry that you’re gone. I don’t believe in hell.
Consuming warmth, a gift of Love... .
From my heart, your peace I wish.
Nothing matters once the soul is free,
All things are possible.
Fly in the wind
Like the bird and the dust.
All is your freedom all is your trust.
For vanity, and flesh
For earthly comfort and all our sins.
Up or down? Begin again?
Is there something? Spirits true!
Oh dear Judy, hearing you.
I feel you out there.
How dread a cancer, how mean, how cruel.
And you so lovely, it is true.
You are not gone though your body is laid.
Into a rock and dirt cold grave.
Your golden hair
Had just got long.
Its gentle sweep I thought,
Must be silky to the touch.
And now I hear you, you’re upset.

Your pink apartment
Soft and sweet
Soft and pink.
And the pinkness you loved
Nolonger graces your cheeks.

It is sad to think you are gone
I didn’t know I’d write this song.
I wish you find your desire.
Be released from cold and fire.
Go to bliss and go to peace.
This is the way; your soul’s released.
There’s nothing left for you here
No more
You have to go through the lighted door
Going beyond what mortals can see
Tell me its glorious
As life used to be.

One Winters Poem

i
Cool air comes out of caves
I do not beg
The rose picked this morning,
Looks like a balloon
The air has gone out of.

He seems to take a stab at me
While looking at a she,
A cute brunette
With a short white skirt;
He would have denied
To have ever seen.

I could never copy
The spectacular glory of the clouds,
And shrink the fabulous,
Awesome and amazing sky
Down to fit
On a two-dimensional planner surface
To hang on the wall.

Woe for superficial, materialistic,
Image seeking, fear
Unloved persons with truly beautiful essences
Float by like doves.

ii
The mistletoe encompasses
My dreams of blizzard walks.
Toward a place where evenings hence;
A firelog engrossed in flame
As deep as mine was for you,
Was sure to burn.

The largest flakes,
Sticking to my hair, my hat, my coat
And on pines they coated
Looked like an ice cream float.
The demon you, big
With bubble bath fingers,
My sweet baby dreams.

For awhile, by sheer force
I thought this seed would live.
For the family tree,
This branch has no fruit.
Those times so effervescent
Leave me dreaming, for a spell,
And silken trousers
Beneath my pants of wool,
With mouton and knitted scarf;
I tread through the snow.

iii
You said to me,"You are special".
I uttered a protest, and to this day
Of what consequence... that meaning was,
Would have incurred?
...Is vague and blurred.

When you called me angel
I began to balk.
I told you , you were dreaming
And barely let you talk.
Now I deal with regrets.
Wishing we could speak,
Painfully it’s all in the past.
You’re hulking gentle form,
Quick as surprise,
Dear as first prize,
Dark , smooth and strong;
But sure we were wrong.
I was not free and still,
Though id seen you crying
Trembling lips and I was so cold...
I tell myself you never loved me.


Eva Rogers
- from a small poetic sampler ©1996

Remembering Rocky

Rocky was lovely, a little tattoo
Was it her hip: was it her thigh?
Was it a rose or a heart? I think it was a star.
Her long brown hair, so full,
I can still see the shimmy
She would do.
Shaking her shoulders
The nicest accent,
Rocky was pretty but rocky was tough.
She saved me one day from disgrace,
Kicking the van of a man.
Laughing and saying
He wasn’t shit
Without a Harley!
When I was alone in the house
Rocky stopped by everyday.
She would have a sandwich
And get new sunglasses,
And then be on her way.
One time I did a drawing of rocky
I don’t know where it went.
One time we were acting up.
She slammed a chain against the wall
And I would scream.
I was just a joke.
I remember in the dressing room
We’d put on make-up and perfume
Before exiting the door, we’d say
" I look like shit", nothing more,
And then we’d take the stage.
That was routine.
Being carefree, she threw the champagne,
Not as foolish as me to drink it all.
Those years ago.
It was like family
It gives me a glow.
In those old memories
There was sadness too,
As bittersweet...
How it feel apart.
Time goes on
But she is in my heart.